CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Zero coughed up a mouthful of river water as he gripped a dark, craggy rock on the northwestern shore of Roosevelt Island. His right arm was bent around Pierson’s shoulder, dragging him along as they reached shallow water.
The president’s face was pale, his eyes closed and lips blue. Zero knew he had to get him out of the water, administer CPR, and hope to any higher power that was listening that he was still alive.
Above and just north of them, pieces of the Queensboro Bridge continued to collapse and fall, splashing down into the water below. It seemed that the lower level had been evacuated, save for the unfortunate souls who had been within the immediate blast zone of the RPGs.
Zero winced as a trio of screaming F-16 jets soared overhead. As he watched, a singl
